Shaved about 5 years off my life today. . .

This boy. Lord, please give me strength.

As we were leaving the house to meet Katie's bus, I stopped at the mailbox (which is right by the front door) to grab the mail. I opened the van door remotely so Jonathan could get in the van. I got the mail and turned to see him heading past the door, down the driveway. I yelled "STOP RIGHT NOW" and he turned, looked right at me, then turned back and kept on running down the driveway toward the street. Right into the path of a vehicle that I saw turning onto our street out of the corner of my eye. I dropped everything and sprinted down the driveway in no less than four steps to get him before he ran out into the street. In what can only be categorized as a complete synthesis of miracles, Jonathan stopped right as his little feet hit the asphalt, and a split second later I grabbed the hood of his coat, and the vehicle coming around the corner was driven by our neighbor Joyce, who saw him running down the driveway and slowed down to stop.

The feeling--the feeling of complete and total helplessness as the impending horror unfolded--was terrifying. He has never, ever pulled a stunt like that before. We had a nice little chat about running in the street. I am hopeful that he has learned his lesson.

I know I have certainly learned a lesson about trusting that he will do what he is told. He has always been such a compliant, sweet kiddo. His behavior the last two days has been out of character, so I know he is totally testing limits.

I'm definitely going to have to be pulling out my A game everyday with this one . . .

I had forgotten how fun this was . . .

My sweet, adorable, agreeable baby boy has been replaced with an angry, defiant, LOUD, giggling little turd.

Ah yes, the terrible twos have arrived. We're at that oh-so-tender part of childhood where everything is drama and even the seemingly simplest of tasks turns into an ordeal reminiscent of the Bay of Pigs.

Right at this moment, transitioning seems to be the big issue, among others. Getting ready to leave, getting in the car, getting buckled into carseats, none of that has occurred without some altercation of some sort. Likewise for coming back home. It's just all drama.

This is a familiar place. Katie had difficulty with transitioining at this age. I recall how I longed for days ahead when just getting somewhere wouldn't be so physically and emotionally exhausting. We finally got there with her, but it took awhile. A LONG, long while.

Today the kids really needed to blow off some steam. It's been really cold and windy the last few days, so we have not been able to get outside at all. It was quite chilly today, but the wind had diminished, so I took them to this little playground near the house just to burn off some energy. They had a ball and from their wild, wide-eyed expressions, they really needed it. We were there about a half an hour when it started to rain/sleet/drizzle, and Mama had to pee really, really bad. So, unfortunately we had to go.

SMACKDOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jonathan was NOT happy that I was disrupting his outside time. I thought perhaps I could outsmart him by taking Katie to the car first and getting her buckled in, and then he would follow. Apparently he's clue to my little game and he just stood there in the middle of the playground and cried, not the usual "you're a meanie" sniffle, this was an "I'm pissed off, dammit!" full out, no holds barred wail. I said "Come on, Jon, it's time to go, let's get in the car!" And he totally snubbed me. He then turned around and ran towards the back of the playground. Unfortunately, at the back of the playground is a fence with a very large opening, and just beyond that fence is a parking lot to a very busy supermarket. I sprinted to him and he ran faster. I finally caught up with him, picked him up and he laughed and giggled, the same damn devlish laugh that his father does when he's especially pleased with himself for annoying the living shit out of me.

I finally get him in the car, and I damn near had to physically pin him down to get him buckled into his carseat. And he carried on. And on. And on. Katie, who by the way is the recipient of the 2004 World Tantrum Cup, commented how she could not understand why he was so angry, and said his screaming "made her ears loud." I took the opportunity to remind her that she did the same thing at that age, to which she looked at me like I had just told the biggest lie evah and was going straight to hell for it!

Sigh. Looks like I'll be having to dust off my old copy of John Rosemond's Making the Terrible Twos Terrific and study up on the exhausting yet adorable enigma that is the two year old.

Happy Birthday Baby Boy!

Two years ago today, you were born. It really doesn’t seem like it’s been two years—the time has just flown by. I remember that nervous excitement as we drove to the hospital on that cold, snowy morning.

You are such an amazing, sweet little boy. Your father and I could not be more proud of you or more delighted that you are our son. We truly feel like we’ve been so blessed with you and your sister.

You have become quite the little comedian as of late—never wasting any opportunity to make us laugh. I think that will be your calling in life—making people laugh. You seem to have a knack for it, that’s for sure. Sometimes we have to separate you and your sister at the dinner table because you delight in getting her to laugh with your silly antics.

Right now, you have a passion for all things that move—cars, trucks, trains, etc. Your favorite thing is the Cars movie and all the cool Cars vehicles you received for Christmas. You can spend hours on the floor running your cars around.

Your next favorite pastime is torturing your sister. I know you only just want to play with her, but she doesn’t see it that way. It’s almost funny watching you two interact—reminds me a lot of how me and your uncle used to be when we were small. Also reminiscent of our relationship is the strong, loving bond you share. Your sister is as fiercely protective of you as I was of my little brother, and you idolize your sister in every way, similar to how my brother was with me.

It’s a wonderful thing to see. I hope you always remain close.

Happy Birthday, Little Man. Just remember that your family is your greatest wealth in this world, so cherish all that you have. We will always be in your corner, no matter what.

The Boy and His Box

Christmas morning 2006 was a blast. The best gift of all was that the kids decided to sleep until 10 a.m. ;-) That, after being up VERY VERY late the night before, was a great gift.

The kids made out like bandits. Bandits actually doesn't even really fully describe how they made out. They truly made the leap from overprivileged to utterly ridiculous that morning. Special thanks to Santa and our very generous family and friends for lifting their toy inventory to the stratosphere.

So, after all was said and done, and the gifts were opened and painfully assembled utilizing various tools and a few choice words of frustration, this is the toy The Boy decides he MUST play with . . .

Shocked? No. I was not even remotely surprised. Amused? Yes, of course. Family legend states that my sister and I did something similar on Christmas morning many moons ago . . .